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12-12-2014, 04:44 PM
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Ophelia the Forsaken
Here she was again at the grave of one she loved, staring down at the soulless vessel which once contained her friend. How many bodies of loved ones would she have to see before she was allowed the peace of a swift end? Ophelia frowned, feeling the glassy tears well up in her eyes, but they remained unshed, fixtures as firm and resolute as she had become. The lines of her body were tight, strained, withholding every desire to crumble to her knees and weep for the compounding loss. She had arrived by the sunset, walking as the flames from Gaucho's feathers erupted like arcs of plasma from the sun. The hardened gaze of her eyes swept over his figure before pressing onward. He was handsome, of that she had absolutely no doubt, but Torleik's persistence and humor had a way of bringing a smile to her lips without her heart knowing. Just the thought made her want to smile again, but she pressed forward toward the cave. Ice and snow were typical for the pale princess, and she slid easily into the cave, overwhelmed by the blood and death. She matched the scene perfectly, capable of blending like a true hunter. The crimson ends of her tresses wound their way without flaw through blood trails, body reflecting the blue light as she stood before the bodies. Two more. Here she thought she had seem them all, but it appeared the god's were all too correct. Someone in this land was killing, and indiscriminately. "This marks two of the Grey who have passed," she growled angrily, eats flattening against her skull. She barely paid attention to Gaucho's presence. "Ailith and now Phaedra." What have I done?" Ophelia glanced up at the stallion who she felt more than saw. His aurora was large enough to feel in the room, not necessarily magnetic as overwhelming. "I'll help you bring her to wherever you want." |
 Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done. Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning. |
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